


Shackles

by mimsical



Series: the sgrub trauma au [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rescue Missions, SGRUB, kind of??, troll technology is freaky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 17:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8809249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimsical/pseuds/mimsical
Summary: Dave and Roxy go to rescue Dirk.





	

**Author's Note:**

> /cries 
> 
> its all going to be okay someday but in the meantime have some really traumatized dirk

As much as you hadn’t wanted to let any of the kids near Sgrub’s headquarters again, you have to admit that you never would have been able to navigate to the control center without Roxy’s help. It’s quintessential troll architecture, which is to say that it’s completely baffling in both structure and set-up. Even with a map you would be hopelessly lost in this building.

Currently you and Roxy are hiding in a supply closet. Good to know some dumb movie clichés hold true. You can barely see more than her outline in the dark, but you can hear the terrified hitch to her breath. They’re all so young, you think. Karkat and the other trolls had been close to her age when they’d played their game, but that was some years ago. It was a lot harder to look a child in the face and bring her back somewhere horrible than it was to discuss the murderous nightmare that Karkat, Kanaya, and Terezi had endured seven years ago. Three and some change sweeps ago. Especially when the child was your niece, and Rose had nearly ripped you apart with her glare when Roxy had offered to be your guide.

The rumbling thunder of feet passes by your hiding place for a few minutes, headed towards the source of a disturbance lovingly crafted by Terezi. Roxy’s breath hitches with each one.

“Okay,” she whispers when the noise dies down. “I think that’s the best we’ll get.”

The two of you slip back into the hall. Silently you turn corners. Every pathway seems to branch off into looming darkness, like a maze. Left, right, right, right, straight through several options, left.

You want to ask how she knows the way so well, how she remembers so clearly after six months. You don’t ask. You just follow.

Roxy comes to a stop so abruptly that you snap into a defensive position. She lays a hand on the wall next to her. Nothing for a moment, and then a soft series of clicks.

“This is the control room,” she says, barely audible. “Through here, to the other side, are the computer cells.” Her gaze is fairly level as she stares at you. “I don’t know if it’ll be empty, the control room.”

“You want to wait here?” you offer, mostly to provoke her.

“Hell no,” she says, and opens the door.

The room’s… empty. Your skin crawls. Everything is humming with troll electricity, living and organic. The air inside is heavy and heady. Tropical levels of climate control. All the chairs are pushed in. Nobody left in a hurry.

“They expected us,” Roxy whispers.

“Yeah, maybe,” you say, and cross the room carefully, stepping over all the cables on the floor without touching any of them. Roxy follows you this time, gun out and ready.

There’s a series of doors on the opposite wall. You start at the first. It’s empty of a person, but you take a moment to look at the scene. The room is tiny, maybe ten square feet, just a computer system and a chair, bolted to the ground, with restraints on the legs and arms. There’s enough room for an IV stand in here. No window. You back out. The next four rooms are empty too.

The fifth one reveals a skinny teenager, starvation skinny, hair limp around his face, dressed in a thin white shirt and white sweatpants. He looks at you sidelong.

“Dirk,” you whisper, and your throat closes up. You can’t tell if he recognizes you. Roxy is stiff at your side, warily stiff, but you step into the room. Dirk doesn’t move much more than his eyes as you kneel. You pull out your knife and god, he does tense at that, and you cut each of his feet free from the restraints. His feet stay lifeless on the floor. He smells horrible, if you’re going for honesty. He smells like nobody’s let him move or leave this room for far too long. You cut his wrists free and lean forward to cut the restraint around his chest.

He slumps forward on top of you and you half-brace for him to try something, to pull a knife like Jake says he did before and stab you, but he just stays there, face pressed against your shoulder, trembling.

“Dirk,” you say again. “It’s me. Dave. Your brother.”

His mouth moves in the shape of your name, but no sound comes out. You look up at Roxy. You’d considered the possibility of having to carry him out, of course you weren’t that optimistic, but the reality is more horrible than you could have comprehended without being here in person.

“I’m going to pick you up,” you tell him, for lack of a better response. “We’re going to go home.”

Roxy turns to guard the door, watching the room. If someone comes in now, you’re sitting ducks if she doesn’t shoot them first. You pull Dirk up and forward, against you, get an arm over your shoulder and then crouch to pull him entirely over your shoulders, fireman-style. He’s heavy, but he’s not as heavy as Jake was when you had to carry him to his bed two weeks ago. You can feel all of his bones.

“Dave,” Roxy says, and gestures behind you. You turn carefully, mindful of Dirk’s head and free arm, to look at the computer. It has turned on. Black screen, white text.

 _Your purpose is blatant_ , the text says. _You failed anyhow. I am the one pulling the strings, and I say you will not have your brother back._

Jake had said that the white text guy had turned out to be Dirk, too, in the end. You touch Dirk’s face with your free hand.

“Are you doing that?” you ask him.

He turns his head very slowly out, towards the screen.

 _It is a foolish miscalculation on your part, to think that you are able to rescue me. You would not have come this far unless She allowed it,_ he types, with what you suspect is his mind. You just hope there’s nothing inside of his allowing this. A microchip in his skull would be very difficult to remove.

“Yeah, I know that, it was kind of obvious,” you say.

“Dave, we should go,” Roxy says quietly.

“We’re going home, Dirk,” you say. “Whether it was by her machinations or not. Your friends miss you. Jake and Jane are waiting for us.”

 _I have no interest in the company of organic beings_. _There is no point to interaction with those who are governed by the flow of chemicals in their brains._

“You may think that,” you tell your little brother, “but you’re lying to yourself, Dirk. And no matter what happens or what did happen to you, I love you.”

He says nothing to that, and you turn away to follow Roxy. He doesn’t fight you once, just stays pressed silently against your shoulders, hiding his face against your arm again. You encounter nobody on the way out, and bundle him into the waiting car without another word. Roxy sits up front, slumped into the seat like she’s done paying attention, but her gaze is fixed on Dirk in the mirror. Jane’s dad sits ready in the driver’s seat.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” you say, and buckle yourself into the seat directly next to Dirk so that you can hold him safe with your own body, should anything happen on the way home.


End file.
